#in its heyday anyway

[memorydragon]

Yeah, I need to play a happier jrpg next...

[lightningzbolt]

Sims 2 CC Mega Post

I say 'mega' but there really isn't a whole lot, I just didn't wanna split it up. Anyway, yeah, I mostly and normally and prefer to make Sims 4 stuff, but I made some Sims 2 stuff for me last year and this and I figured, may as well share it. Most of these require outside meshes so keep that in mind, Sims 2 CC downloading is a bloody nightmare.

Alex Skin

So I made a custom skin with tattoos for Alex as it seemed simple enough to do. Ain't gonna look perfect, but it looks fine from a distance, same resources I used for my Sims 4 versions, so I did vector the rose and skull. I based the skin off these default replacements. You don't NEED these, but they make it so that everyone matches. Yes that site requires an account and login, it's NSFW, it has body hair and works with nudity. Because obviously I play with mods like that. I made the skin look right for Fit/Thin/Fat but I didn't bother with any age but adult nor did I bother with female, because, idc. I THINK this is Alex's hair mesh, but idfk, I have so many that look like this.

It also works in Castaway Stories, as does all of these, because I used them in it too. :> That made Alex the palest guy on the island as all the skin tones in Castaway Stories were shifted to one tone darker per. I manually put my replacement skin in that too, but I didn't have the darkest, so no body hair to them.

Streaked Jack Hair

You need this mesh to make this work. I made this for myself as I didn't really like anything else I had for him, and this is Sims 2, so I went with earlier hair, and I liked how this mesh looked. Loosely based on like this hair. I didn't bother with other ages beyond adult again. I would have if I decided to de-age him and send him to university, but I did that with Otto instead.

Again also works in Castaway Stories, as I used it, again. It's easy to import Sim's faces from 2 into the stories games.

Awsten Tricolor Hair

Awsten Red Hair

You need this mesh to make this work. The bright green in that is also great and I used that for him at first. These are his eyes too, or rather his right eye. No screenshots of the red hair, but it's just a bright plain red in case you prefer it. I made this hair as it looked okay with the colors kind of being randomly spread around the mesh. This is his outfit btw. Again only works with adult as far as I'm aware.

BONER Shirt

R&R Shirt

NoRegRetsShirt

JALEXShirt

BMTHShirt1

BMTHShirt2

BMTHShirt3

BMTHShirt4

You need this mesh to make these work. All of these are Everyday fashion only by account of only the Everyday category having the option for separates and these are all tops. Don't ask me what pants I use, I have so many downloaded, but these work with all of them.

As it turns out I didn't take screenshots of all of these ingame, but maybe these help with that.

PTV Hoodie

DropDead Hoodie

You need this mesh for the PTV hoodie. I don't THINK the DD hoodie needs anything external, I compared it to a vanilla mesh and it seemed to line up. I don't know, I made it last December and I didn't log everything I did. Like the shirts above, Everyday category only as they are tops.

As a bonus, here's some misc Sims 2 screenshots to hit the image limit, including this stuff and with no context to my game. I know most people on modern computers play with The Ultimate Collection, but I installed it via discs, and a few ISOs as I didn't feel like spending $30+ for a few missing stuff packs on eBay. :) Pretty sure those ISOs are why my game is British and I have to always manually set the clock and a few other small things every time I load it. Not a big deal to me, just felt I'd mention for clarity. Castaway Stories is from an ISO too as have you SEEN those prices on eBay?! I have Sims 3 on Disc too, 100%, never made any CC for it tho. I love how Sims 2 was out at the peak of, ahem, mid to late 2000s culture so a lot of CC for it is of it's time in the best possible way. I kept this theme going with adding in custom music that ONLY existed from before 2009 (so 2008 is my cut-off date) and it's fun only hearing music of the era ingame. :) I DID make stuff for Sims 1 too years ago but I don't know how I even really did it so idk how to make more and also I don't care that much. I wanted to try playing with Alex and Jack in Sims 1 too but I kept getting fucked up files that didn't work or look right and I didn't know what I needed to do to make it right and I didn't wanna waste more time than I already did trying to make their faces. I do have semi-not ugly faces and outfits for a couple others tho.

Oh yeah, all this stuff is made in the Body Shop and GIMP for textures.

Whole SimFileShare Folder

[birchbow]

Hi! Brand new baby homestuck here (missed the boat by a few years XD) and I just wanted to thank you for writing one of my favorite clown-riddled church-focused fish-pun-filled sad, riveting, wanting, poor- communication- kills fics I've ever read 😊

Hell yeah! :D I do like how this makes it sound like there's a smorgasbord of other fics that fulfill all those criteria at once, which in my experience there are not. In fact it's delightful to find that there's so many people who enjoy such a weird flavor of fic, especially considering when I first started writing it I was so sheepish about its nicheness and bizarreness that I self-prompted it on a kink meme so I could sockpuppet external validation at myself lmaoooo. Alexa play Let's See How Far We've Come

[cutesilyo]

i dont think the current pjo fandom knows how big thalico was as a ship back then

[newspecies]

i always feel the need to clarify because i dont like being misinterpreted. so im doing that. i understand being disappointed, the trailer was clearly bait and two hours in this stream has nothing to do with half life. so i do get it! but i think people complaining IN CHAT need to like. leave. go complain somewhere else. chats not your tumblr blog

[syn4k]

I’ve been showing some of my friends your Mianite liveblogs and it’s nostalgic bc my friends and I all met via Mianite back in 2014, it’s just nice to see people discovering and liking such an old series. Glad ur having a blast! You would’ve loved it live in 2014

hi anon!! glad you're enjoying me enjoying this series!

i've been having the absolute time of my life going into mianite blind with my only context being that i vaguely recognized who captainsparklez is and that the series was centered around three gods. i got into hermitcraft in 2019 and empires smp in late 2022 and honestly vibes-wise mianite has aged incredibly well in comparison, especially for a series made in 2014, the year i downloaded Minecraft. it all just feels very familiar despite this being my first time watching it yknow?

i've also really enjoyed getting into a series that has a much smaller fandom than what i'm used to (there's like seven people here on tumblr who regularly post about mianite and i only found ~370 fics under its fandom tag on ao3 orz)! i've been liveblogging watching this to my priv discord server at the same time and two of my other friends have been there to provide context or go "oh yeah that's a thing that happens and it's fucking insane" and like. dude its awesome

im glad this is giving you and your friends some nostalgia! and don't worry, s2 has close to a hundred episodes in it from what i can tell so i'll probably be going for a while

[muirneach]

in my hunt for information on my university’s hockey history um. well for some reason our lacklustre team is relevant enough for an article on ice hockey fandom wiki??

[myothertardisisonthemun]

If you've got a moment to help us out by writing, it helps to be specific. There's a lot of details in the links here, but in short

1 Reduction of the space from over 15,000m2 of space to about 6000m2, due to removal of internal levels and new back of house areas.

2 Loss of the carefully restored engine room, which was used to host the live steam engine display

2 Loss of the postmodern facade, a great example of a rapidly disappearing era of australian architecture.

4 Changing the Wran building from an open area to closed corridors, ruining the viewing area of the Boulton and Watt engine in the process.

A quick comment, clearly objecting, which falls along the same lines as what the expert criticism is saying really helps.

Hi.

I'm going to break my very strict format for once because I need your help. For the past 9 years, the irl human behind this blog has been involved in the effort to save a museum from incompetent and money hungry executives.

The museum is filled with precious objects, telling the story of the history of technology, and how it relates to art and society.

Many of these are objects are large, but delicate and have been in place for over 30 years.

No one within the museum's community trusts the CEO, who was appointed by a hostile former government, and prefers renting out museum spaces for business functions over educating the public.

In a few days, the museum is set to close down for renovations. Yet none of the staff or volunteers have been given any clear details about these plans. All we know is displays which have inspired generations will be torn down, likely never to be restored.

We have a petition asking the new government to step in and stop the closure:

If you could sign this, you'd be doing the human behind this blog a massive favour.

[stardustedknuckles]

Do you like the mighty Nein? Do you like arcane's art style? Do you like supporting your local fanartists, some of whom are freelancers who make money off what they do but who are too shy to actually promote that they provide services in exchange for money?

Ahem.

Anyway.

Khalliys wants to draw m9 stuff in the style of arcane and said, and I quote, "hold me hostage to do it." which I'm happy to do. However. She's also struggling with the feeling of only being able to draw what she wants and making 0 dollars doing her actual freelance work.

So since she's struggling to promote herself, I'm gonna. If you'd like to have a hand in encouraging her to draw beauyasha and assorted m9 stuff in arcane style, here's the tip jar.

And it's been a while since beauyasha was in its heyday, so here are some works by her that you might know:

Hit her up!

[lizardsfromspace]

Do you ever get kind of interested in a subject where nothing weird has happened yet but you know something weird is going to happen?

Anyway, Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. It was originally a upscale resort community, and also still is: it's where rich people from Chicago kept their lake houses, and maybe still do. Its heyday was in the early to mid 20th century, where its status as a vacation destination was so set that Hugh Hefner even put the first ever "Playboy Resort" there. I haven't been there myself, so I may be wrong, but it doesn't give me, like, Pigeon Forge or Niagara Falls energy. The list of attractions online seems to be spas and parks and a few theaters.

But Lake Geneva is more famous now for its most famous son, Gary Gygax. Over the course frigid Wisconsin winters, he and several wargaming friends who didn't become famous developed tactical wargaming into the game Dungeons & Dragons in the early 1970s. He also began hosting a small gaming meetup in Lake Geneva, later called Gen Con, which outgrew the town by the late 1970s.

As I understand it, Lake Geneva didn't really embrace its status as the Birthplace of Dungeons and Dragons. When Gygax died, there were fan-funded tributes here and there, and fans created a new convention in his honor called Gary Con where they played games from his time at TSR, but D&D was still a niche hobby and not the thing you define a rich people resort town around.

Then, whoops, shows like Critical Role turned D&D into one of the most popular entertainment properties in the world! Now there's D&D-themed events popping up all over the place. Some of this is normal, like efforts to fund a more prominent memorial for Gary Gygax, and a Dragon Days Fantasy Festival. But some are going further. Because there are now at least two proposals to create immersive, D&D-themed LARP experiences in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, population 8,227

One is a large themed restaurant/bar/wedding venue (?) called the Griffin and Gargoyle, which is supposedly opening in 2024, though all the art is concept art and they're still looking for investors.

The other one is Giantlands, the proposed theme park where the tickets will be NFTs, based on a game no one's heard of developed by the son of Gary Gygax by a company that legally can't call itself TSR anymore, but tried anyway before rebranding as Wonderfilled, and who also tried to make old Gygax games even more racist? I can't even begin to explain this. I think they got dunked on years ago but they were still hyping up its Lake Geneva theme park that's definitely going to exist this week (this is from August 11th)

What's incredible to me here is that they're boasting that their LARP theme park will be from the makers of Evermore Park. Nothing says quality in immersive fantasy roleplaying parks like someone whose main claim to fame is making that other one that failed. Wonder how many real tombstones and haunted dolls they'll buy this time. And this one appears to have fighting arena

I seriously doubt these are the only two pitches. Everyone with too much money and a love for theme parks feels the little voice in their head saying they can do the Star Wars Hotel right. I think what gets me here is, nobody would put anything like this in Lake Geneva otherwise. It's small, it's located in Wisconsin so it'd have to be seasonal, and it's less than two hours away from Wisconsin Dells - an entire town of kitschy roadside attractions - and even closer to Chicago, which is Chicago. Its tourism niche is beaches and homes around a scenic lake. The only reason to place anything there would be to honor Gary Gygax, and uh, I don't think the younger people who got into D&D with 5E really care about him, or even necessarily know who he is. Gary Con and most Gygax-themed events are for old-school gamers, not the Critical Role crowd. And they especially don't care about whatever Giantlands is. Giantlands as a game is so old-school there isn't even a PDF of the book, it's physical only. They want to build a full theme park around a game you can't even buy on DrivethruRPG. Anyway I hope all this open bc it would be funny

[talenlee]

4e: The Pinball Wizard

Back in the heydays of the 4th edition community being a community that all met on a single forum and shared a common lexicon and all that, there were phrases, truisms, slang and tropes we recognised and used to speed our way through conversations. This was true of 3rd edition too, since the community was actually, broadly speaking, the same thing, but that community kind of uprooted itself and moved on to other places, while the 4th edition remnant seems to have not really coalesced in a subsequent form. We don’t really have a 1d4chan or Brilliant Gameologists or deeply intimidating Pathfinder Subreddit as places to scare people off, and instead it’s stuff like…

Well, this blog post might get shared on the subreddit. Hi reddit! I like you even if we don’t agree about Blackguards!

Anyway, thing is, there are things that now have no meaning except their place in 4th edition conversations, and are functionally un-googleable because they’re very generic ways of just using words, or maybe, were named after something else. Back in City of Heroes there was a powerful supergroup known as the Green Machine, that was entirely team-buffing healers that refused to heal, and that’s not a term you can search for meaningfully. Another group that existed and that shares its title with today’s subject was a group of kinetics, where everyone could use powers to make everyone else fire off at super speed, showing you don’t need good powers if you can fire off your best powers every second.

They called themselves the Pinball Wizards, and now, if you go look for what that means in 4th edition D&D you kinda find nothing.

Here’s the story of one of the more distinct power level errata of D&D 4th edition, where in 2011, a single sweeping change to the way the rules worked destroyed a strategy and in the process brought something ridiculous down to merely really good.

This build was a combination of two basic parts, which were well and strictly defined under 4th edition rules. The first is zones. A zone is an effect, made by a power with the ‘zone’ keyword so you knew where to look for it, that looks at that area for some reason. Some zones are used for things like a healing aura, or a space that a character can move around in freely, but very commonly, a zone is used to represent an effect that’s bad that lasts. This can be a bunch of falling shards of glass, a cloud of toxic venom that hovers in a space, or a ground teeming with sharp, jagged vines on thorns.

Zones are extremely cool, make no mistake, and they tend to fall into the toolkit of the Controller. Controllers want to deprive enemies of actions, and zones are a great way to give enemies a bad choice: Stay in an area to do something they want to do, or spend actions getting out of it. Since zones do a good job of representing effects like rings of fire, or clouds of poison, or raining ice, it’s stuff that hits the wizardy feeling of editions past.

The other part of this is forced movement. 4th edition had a family of these effects known by their more specific names of push pull slide, but these are ways to change where enemies are positioned and everyone who complains about fighters in 4th edition is usually complaining about these and they are cowards. These effects show up everywhere, but undeniably, if you’re looking at the people who will do the most of them, you want controllers.

The build that worked out of this was known as the Pinball Wizard. You played a Wizard who used one of a number of long-lasting powers that created a zone that did something dangerous when someone entered it. Then you used your other powers to slide something in and out of that zone over and over again. Wizards got more than a few powers that did slides, and they got access to items and feats that improved their slides. You could use a slide effect to turn two squares of slide movement (and we’re talking like, 4-8 squares for builds that are trying) into like, 40 damage.

At level 2, when tanks are happy to have 40 hit points.

Anyway, you might be thinking the sensible solution is to make it so that these zone powers are limited in how often they can have their effect – and it kinda makes sense, narratively, in the context of the world, right? Like, an enemy or person isn’t going to breathe more if they run back and forth through a poison cloud.

In 2011, Wizards released an update to the compendium that added that rules information to every single damaging zone power in the game, with a note of the when, and an article explaining why they did it. It was a perfectly reasonable rules update made through a digital system they had and realistically speaking, the only thing to mourn is that there’s now no good reason to ever let a player get away with this use of these powers together, because it’s pretty silly.

The system that was left after this change was obviously a better system. It had a clear, specific template that it could use thereafter and while it did lose some edge cases, it was implemented thoroughly and comprehensively in a way 3rd edition almost never managed to execute. This was because of a central control system, the compendium, but it also spoke to a problem that a game normally about disconnecting and engaging with a very material play space was going to have to confront head-on.

Basically: This kind of errata existed in the rules, sure, and if you download a rules compendium, every power that can be changed mentions the 2011 change. But the books don’t. The books still have the rules change and to learn how the game works, you have to know it. Or you have to use a digital compendium, which presents a new problem for a game that is meant to work with paper and dice.

These were inevitable evolutions of technology and they interest me because they kinda present problems and solutions at scale. The actual problem of a wizard stacking a bunch of redundant effects together to kick an enemy through the boundary of their zones as a single incident was not a meaningful problem to a table. If it’s a problem, it’s a problem that has an administrative option to work with – the Dungeonmaster can look at it, and decide it’s too good and talk to the players about it. That problem is solvable almost instantly if everyone in the group and game has a good relationship and respects the DM.

But if you made the game, you don’t have a problem that can be solved on the spot. You have a problem of all the players, in a communal space, who bring it up and ask if it makes sense and consult with one another and now you have the problem that looks like at scale your product has a flaw and you need to address it to make that flaw not look like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, what makes a good game is important here, it isn’t not important.

It is neither a good thing nor a bad thing.

It is a thing that few games get, not really, unless they’re very big, and trying to do a lot. It’s barely something that even the next tier down of games need to care about. Errata happens, people care about making the books better. But most people don’t have a comprehensive central database where they can update all the powers that use a particular wording.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[kissingghouls]

The Emperor (Suck Club IV)

Part Two: The First - (Part One // ao3)

Vampire Primo x Female Reader

Summary: You seek comfort in Primo's old cottage, unaware you aren't alone in the woods. ♥ This chapter directly references events that take place in The Prince, not exactly spoilers but I'm adding a heads up anyway. Tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, dual pov, flashbacks, horror themes, vampire violence, violence, blood, (eventual) smut, and more tags on ao3 // 3600ish words div by @gothdaddyissues 🖤

“So…vampires like pizza?”

It might’ve been a stupid question but in that moment it was the only thing you could think to ask. A delivery box with a nondescript logo—some local place, you guessed—sat between you and the much older man. For some reason, he had also set the table for a much fancier meal, complete with the confusing number of silverware.

The odd man simply shrugged as he delicately cut into his pizza with a knife and fork. “I suppose some do, though, I can’t speak for all of us. I just assumed young people still liked pizza.”

“Huh.” You took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as you prepared the next question. “And how many years young are you?”

He cracked a smile, laughing through his nose. “Quite a few, I’m afraid.”

“Like…centuries? Wait—is it rude to ask?”

He smiled softly. “I don’t mind you asking, piccola. Let’s see…” He paused and began to tap on his chin as he added up the years. “Somewhere around 900 years old, give or take. After a certain amount of time, one falls out of the habit of counting.

You sat back, sinking lower in your seat. “You really are him, aren’t you.”

“I told you, cara, I don’t know why anyone would pretend to be me.”

“Primo?” you asked softly, using his name for the first time. “Why did you really do it? Why waste your time saving me?”

He set down his silverware and looked you in the eye. “You reminded me of someone.”

The memory played over and over as you drove down the dark stretch of road. There was no need for street lights along the old highway at the edge of town. People hardly came out this way anymore, opting to use the newer highway to get to the city, but it was still the only direct route to Primo’s charming cottage. He loved to bring you along on afternoon drives, telling you stories about its heyday and pointing out old places of interest as he sped down the desolate strip. It was an artery, he said, a direct line to the beating heart of the city just over the horizon, so busy and full of life as people traveled back and forth. Now it was just a place where bored teenagers went to cause trouble and pretend to summon things in the woods.

As long as they stayed away from the old Emeritus place you didn’t really care what the local heathens got up to.

It used to be calming out here, like wandering down a secret path to some hidden tranquil place. A place only a handful of people knew about and even fewer visited. Now it felt like you were somewhere else, some alternate dimension where the harsh reality of all those abandoned properties made your skin crawl. Those sad, broken buildings looming in the woods waiting—longing—for someone to return. The seemingly magical veil that previously blanketed that strip of highway was gone, leaving only busted windows and sagging roofs to remind you of your own loss.

You’d been avoiding the cottage as much as possible. It might be all you had left of him, but most of the time it felt more like visiting a gravesite than the place he called home. How could it not? You’d mourned there, buried your hopes there and still your offering—your sacrifice—wasn’t enough to bring him back.

You often wondered if he even could come back. Of all the things you’d discussed over the years, this was a contingency neither of you planned for. Whatever the reason, you knew deep down leaving was his only solution and likely one he struggled with immensely. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. Knowing didn’t erase the last conversation you had with him.

“Primo?”

“Diavolina,” he responded in the same flat tone.

“Are you in trouble?”

He turned and gave you a reassuring smile. “What trouble could I be in?”

“The worrying kind. I mean, that’s him in there isn’t it? Your brother? With the girl?

“There is no need to worry, cara. It’s under control.”

You laughed angrily. “You’re really not going to tell me anything, are you? After everything—”

“Enough,” he chided. “Acting like a petulant child will not change things.”

“A child? Seriously? Go fuck yourself, Primo,” you spat and started down the pathway.

“Dia, wait—”

“No. Don’t think you can sweet talk your way out of this. Sure, you’re older than me. Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are hiding something from me. And that fucking hurts, Primo. Do you understand that? I don’t care what excuse you have for it. I don’t care if you’re trying to keep me or them safe. A secret like this is a shitty thing to keep from someone close to you—”

“I’m afraid,” he admitted quietly, cutting off your speech. “I am afraid and I have not felt fear like this in a very long time. You can understand that, yes?”

You nodded solemnly.

It stayed with you, haunting every waking moment. No one knew where he went. The brother and the girl tried their best to assure you he was fine, but it was obvious they didn’t know any more than you did. Your relationship with Primo was one thing, but you weren’t about to let two very hungry vampire strangers comfort you about it.

Darkness swallowed everything beyond the reach of your headlights as you finally approached the cottage, the withering exterior appearing sickly under the dull glow. An awful wind whipped around the property, kicking up leaves and dust as you stepped out of the car. The structure groaned under the force of it, as though it might crumble completely with a strong enough gust. It broke your heart to see the cottage this way, this little piece of utopia left to rot on its own.

What would Primo think?

You pushed your way inside and called out to the vampire, unable to break old habits even now. Aside from the occasional creaks and settling sounds, the house remained silent. It smelled of dust and stale air instead of tea or fresh flowers. No one was singing in the cramped kitchen, empty chairs still tucked under the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the state of things, not tonight anyway. In the morning maybe you’d have the energy to clean up a bit and make a few calls about repairs. But tonight you squeezed through the small hallway between the kitchen and the conservatory and past the rows of shelves lined neatly with bottles older than you. There were a dozen or so unlabeled bottles tucked away in a back corner, a place of high praise reserved for Primo’s most treasured vintage. You plucked one from the shelf before making your way back through the house and up the winding steps to the second floor.

Old photos and paintings lined the walls, a miniature gallery devoted to the time Primo had spent here. Newspaper clippings detailing the opening of his beloved botanical garden and other forgotten success stories of Aurea Valley were placed lovingly in frames beside pressed flowers and keepsakes leading up to the room at the end of the hall. You felt along the wallpaper, searching for the light switch in the dark. The ornate lamp on the bedside table clicked on, filling the room with a dim orange light. Its wiring had been taking apart and soldered back together at least three times since you’d met Primo, but he refused to let the thing go. There were many things like that in the cottage, pieces that had dulled and faded with time but were still just as important or sentimental as they’d always been.

The bedroom was left untouched in his absence, scattered with various items he’d left behind during his great getaway. For months it had hurt too much to face it, but now all you wanted—all you needed was to feel close to him again. You didn’t care if it was pathetic or sad or even insane. You needed the comfort and clarity of his pajamas and the fading scent of his cologne still trapped in the fibers. You needed to be in his bed, in his clothes, with his favorite wine because it was all you had left.

Just for one night, you told yourself and curled up in his blankets like you belonged there. It was technically your house, after all. It didn’t take much for the alcohol and general exhaustion to lull you into a deep sleep filled with sweet memories of your vampire.

“What do you think? Are you afraid, cara?”

“Of you? No,” you replied with a laugh. You paused, tilting your head as you stared at his silly store-bought costume. He had dyed his hair with one of those spray cans of color, turning it into a pitch-black helmet. A cheap one-size-fits-most tuxedo made of mystery fabric hung awkwardly off his shoulders while a massive plastic medallion painted gold held a cape around his neck. “Don’t you think it’s a little…”

“A little…?”

“I don’t know…isn’t Dracula a bit on the nose?”

Primo’s forehead creased as his mouth set in a hard line. “I’m not Dracula, cara.”

“Oh, you’re not doing, like, a Bela Lugosi thing?”

Primo was too busy continuing his rant to answer you. “Dracula was written in 1897, cara. I am a great deal older than Dracula. In fact, I am a great deal older than Vlad Țepeș himself! Older than Vlad Dracul!”

“Ok old man. Then who are you dressed as?

“Ah, eh. Someone much worse,” he offered gravely. “My brother Terzo.”

-x-

Primo’s stomach turned as he approached the cottage. The strange scent that encompassed the Valley only grew stronger the closer he got. Thick and sickly-sweet, the smell was everywhere as though something was marking its territory. Something or someone. It was hardly surprising that his absence would attract another being to this place. Under normal circumstances he might have praised them for being so bold. But here like this, he felt only anger, a deep burning rage toward whoever dared to commit such an unforgivable trespass. After what happened to Secondo and Terzo, this was nothing short of a declaration of war.

He wasn’t going to lose you or his home without one hell of a fight.

His movements were quiet and careful as he crept through the dense underbrush that had sprung up around the property. Whatever was here, whatever supernatural creature decided to follow you here wasn’t particularly interested in covering its tracks along the way. It did, however, remain hidden from view and Primo was too focused on your immediate safety to properly search for the intruder.

The full moon bathed the conservatory in a silvery light, hiding the interior from view. There was almost no light within the cottage, only the soft blue glow of a television shone somewhere on the second floor. He stared up at the window, following the layout of his home in his mind. His bedroom. You were in his bedroom. He closed his eyes, straining to hear your slow, relaxed breaths over the ambient noise of the woods. Inside this place, in this little castle he’d built, you were safe from whatever monsters lurked outside, free to dream of whatever your heart desired. It was oddly comforting to know you were near. That you were safe and healthy in this place. Possibly even happy. Maybe he should have known better than to build his comfort around you, but that’s where it was. That’s where it had been from the day he met you.

There was a time when a year would have meant nothing, gone as quickly as the blink of an eye. But Primo counted the days you were apart. Spent each moment sulking and brooding his way across continents while hiding in the kind of hotels where people didn’t ask too many questions. One day he hoped you would forgive him for leaving without an explanation. If he was honest, he’d spend eternity trying to earn your forgiveness if you asked.

A hopeless old vampire. What a fucking cliché he’d become.

He sighed, directing his focus toward his reflection in the glass. A perfectly normal face stared back at him, eyes bright and sharp. The fine lines he’d quietly developed over his first lifetime, all the little signs of age and worry, every survival badge he earned on his skin had dulled and smoothed over. A healthy glow, some would call it. A skincare routine Bathory would die for. A younger man stood before him, wrinkles replaced by soft skin and a relentless hunger he could barely control. Everything had a price and Fate demanded more than a pound of flesh for saving his brother.

She hadn’t lost her sense of irony, even after a millennia.

The more he fed, the younger he appeared. And when he tried to fight it, Fate filled his mind with horrific visions and turned his blood to fire.

He sighed again, heavily this time and his breath fogged up the glass. He was so deep in his own self-pity he didn’t see it. Didn’t hear a thing as a massive, shadowy figure picked him up and tossed him through the glass wall.

The car rocked gently as he drove, lulling you into a deeper sleep. You’ve really done it this time old man, he thought to himself as the forest squeezed against the road. What the hell was he doing? No. What the hell were you thinking? And just who the hell were you?

“Augh, my head,” you whined from the passenger seat, gripping your hair in your fists. After a beat you realized you were in unfamiliar surroundings with a strange man. You shot backward, body pressed against the door to create as much distance as possible. “What are you doing?”

Primo huffed, never taking his eyes off the road. “I couldn’t exactly leave you in my garden to bleed to death, piccola.”

“If you think you can just drag me somewhere to drain me—”

“I saved your life,” he corrected, raising his voice. “And I cleaned up your little mess.”

“So that means you just get to kidnap me?”

“Would you like me to take you back so you can explain to the local police just what you were doing back there?”

“Not really.”

“A simple thank you would do.”

“Pull over.”

He sighed and brought the car to rest on the shoulder. It took only seconds for you to jump out and begin to stomp your way down the road. “Piccola,” he called after you. “It’s dangerous out here.”

“More dangerous than riding around with a fucking vampire?” you shot back.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Depends on who you ask, I suppose. But you know what I am. Do you think you can outrun me?”

You let out a frustrated scream that echoed through the woods. A flock of birds flew from the trees, screeching back at you for making such a sound.

“I don’t have to outrun you if you don’t chase me.”

“Fair point. Would you like to get back in the car then?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You needed help. I helped.”

“Really? All I remember is you shoving a bunch of leaves in my mouth before I blacked out. How is that helping me? How is kidnapping me helping? And what the fuck do you care about what happens to me anyway?”

The question stung like salt in an open wound. When he found you there, writhing in pain as you bled out between hastily painted sigils and candles burned down to nothing he had truly only wanted to help. “I—if you need protection so badly you’re willing to risk performing that ritual…”

Your eye narrowed as you stalked toward him. “That’s—”

“I can offer you protection. Greater than anything that ritual has to offer.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why?”

Being evasive did him no favors, so he decided to just be honest with you. “Fate.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

He cast his gaze on the ground, drawing lazy circles in the dirt with his shoe. He sighed under the weight of his confession, preparing himself for any reaction. “It means I wrote that ritual, the one that nearly killed you. I created something in the naïveté of my youth—”

You laughed loudly, doubling over as you clutched your stomach. “That’s—that’s impossible,” you struggled between giggles. “You’d be what? A thousand years old?”

“Not quite.”

You swiped at the tears forming in your eyes, still struggling for breath between each burst of laughter. “You really expect me to believe you’re Primo Emeritus, don’t you?”

“I—I don’t…what exactly do you mean?”

“Half of the vampires out there claim to be Emeritus vampires. Do you think you’re the first?”

His brow furrowed. “I am the First. Why would anyone pretend to be—”

“Oh, not just anyone. Almost everyone.”

-x-

The sound of shattering glass dragged you from alcohol-soaked dreamlike memories. You shot up immediately searching the room for a possible the source of the noise. The window near the bed was still intact, its heavy, dusty drapes mocking you with their stillness. In your semi-conscious state, you realized the sound must have come from downstairs. The conservatory. That entire room would’ve looked like a jackpot for anyone hellbent on breaking glass for a thrill.

You were going to kill those little fuckers. 

Shoving your phone in your pocket, you climbed down from the massive bed and quickly made your way downstairs. As you crossed through the kitchen you flipped every light switch along the way, hoping that maybe the thought that someone lived here would be enough to scare off would be intruders.

 “Hello?” you called out as you reached the threshold of the conservatory. “This is private property asshole.” 

Nothing. You sighed, part in anger and part in relief. Just a couple of kids fucking around in the woods and ruining your perfectly good dreams. You flipped on the light and stepped into a pair of gardening boots before grabbing a broom.

“Jesus,” you muttered as you approached the broken pane. The entire 8-foot panel of glass was in jagged pieces scattered across the floor. “What the fuck did they throw?”

Something stirred behind you, a small, wounded sound followed by a grunt. You traced the noise past the overgrown plants and broken furniture, glass crunching under you boots with each step. Aside the worktable still cluttered with Primo’s last concoction, the figure of a man lay sprawled on the floor, barely moving. The sickening metallic smell of blood assaulted your senses as you took in the sight in front of you. The man was injured, his face dashed with several small cuts as through he’d gone through the window headfirst. It was difficult to tell the extent of the rest of his injuries, but you were sure they were there. He was the object that had broken the window.

Who throws a grown man through a window?

You looked back and forth between the man and the pattern of broken glass along the stone floor.

What throws a grown man through a window?

The man stirred, fingers twitching as he let out a hollow cough. You moved closer, kneeling beside him to get a better look at his face. His features were oddly familiar, blond hair, high cheekbones, and a prominent nose just like—no, it couldn’t be? The man in front of you appeared years younger than your vampire, but the resemblance was so striking, so startling it couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

“Who the hell?” you mumbled to yourself.

He began to cough again, quickly bringing a hand to his mouth to cover it. The action seemed to wake him from his unconscious state and he used the opportunity to slide away from you.

“Hey, it’s ok,” you offered gently.

“No. I—uh—” He looked up, eyes searching yours as he made some vague excuse. But his eyes—

“Primo,” you whispered, staring back into the stark white iris of his left eye. It wasn’t a question or an accusation, just a strange fact being presented to you as plainly as anything else. His face was full and free of the skull shaped paints he loved, but there was no doubt left. This was Primo Emeritus. Your Primo. “How is this possible?”

He winced and those familiar little lines around his eyes deepened like they would in the future—or had in the past. “Diavolina,” he began quietly. “I—”

“What happened to you? Where the hell have you been?”

Guilt flashed across his handsome features. “I was—”

“Nevermind. Let’s get you inside.”

“I can’t. It’s not safe—”

“When is it ever?” you snapped.

Shame now settled on his face, like a scolded child. “I must go, Diavolina. And I will return,” he added quickly. “But it’s not safe. I need to feed.”

Your brow furrowed as you processed what he’d said. There was always an awareness with your vampire; you had never denied what he was or what sustained him, but this was the first time you had ever heard him discuss it in such succinct terms.

“Primo, I don’t understand.”

“I will explain everything,” he managed through a grunt as he pushed himself up. “Everything, tesoro. I promise. Please, just trust me a little while longer.”

You nodded once and the vampire made an impossibly swift exit back through the broken panel. Primo had never made you a promise he didn’t keep.

more stuff by me // comment or DM if you'd like to be added to the taglist ♥

[brian-in-finance]

Photo courtesy of Caitríona Balfe

Caitríona Balfe on the final season of Outlander

The multi award-nominated actress on leaving behind her career-defining role in the hit series

If I was talking to Caitríona Balfe in the early noughties, the focus of our conversation would have taken on a completely different flavour. This was Balfe’s heyday as one of the most sought-after models of her generation. After being scouted, aged 18, while collecting money for charity at her local shopping centre in her native Ireland, she almost immediately became a mainstay of fashion month, opening and closing shows for high-fashion juggernauts including Chanel, Givenchy, Moschino and Louis Vuitton.

But mention Caitríona Balfe now and most will immediately reference one thing: Outlander.

The Starz show, based on the series of books by Diana Gabaldaon has become a cult series, beloved by fans worldwide. It follows the journey of Balfe’s Claire Randall, a former WW2 nurse in post-war Scotland, who finds herself thrust back in time to the highlands of the 18th century. The hugely popular show is currently broadcasting the second part of its penultimate season and the cast has just wrapped shooting the very final series. It will mark the conclusion of more than a decade of Balfe’s professional life as an actress.

“It’s been such a strange year,” Balfe admits, calling me from London, where she lives with her husband, the band manager Tony McGill, and their young son. “Knowing that it was coming to an end, we all definitely felt heightened emotions at various times throughout the process. Finishing up was so emotional.” After the show’s final days, both Balfe and her co-star Sam Heughan embarked on solo, somewhat spiritual, adventures. “I went away and did a yoga and meditating retreat and Sam's about to go on a trek in the Himalayas,” she says. “I think we're all finding something to put our energy into. That's a very long-winded way of saying, 'I think I'm OK!'”

Photo courtesy of Starz

The role of Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser is, one might say, the role of a lifetime – or several in fact. Balfe’s decade-plus relationship with Claire has been an actor’s gift, allowing her to traverse time periods and cross the genres of period drama, action, war and fantasy epics. The emotional arc alone has stretched Balfe’s artistic muscles such that she has been laden with plaudits, including Golden Globe and Bafta nominations, throughout the show’s run.

“My relationship with Claire has completely evolved over the years,” she says. “In the beginning, you were filling in all of these blank spaces of her history and her memories and then, as the years went on, you're living it, you're creating them in real time. And so, in a way, you know, without sounding weird, she lives within you. I think more than anything what I realised is, for me, personally, what an amazing teacher Claire has been.”

Indeed, before taking on the role in 2013, Balfe might perhaps have been known as that loaded phrase ‘model-turned-actress’ – with largely just an uncredited role in The Devil Wears Prada and a small part in Spielberg’s Super 8 – to her name. Yet Balfe’s talent in Outlander is unavoidable, right from her earliest appearances. “Oh my resumé was so short and sweet before Outlander,” she says, laughing. “But the great thing about this genre is that it can be so many different things, and it has been so many different things. So as an actor I've been brought to a really incredible depth of emotion.”

And there is much, Balfe says, that Claire taught her on a personal level. “She taught me how to be responsible, taught me how to use my voice, how to stand up for myself and for other people, about compassion and empathy,” she says, pausing – already sounding slightly nostalgic. “I hope I brought some of those qualities into it, anyway.”

Claire taught me how to use my voice and how to stand up for myself.

Photo courtesy of Starz

If Outlander was the perfect advertisement for Balfe’s considerable talent, it was the 2021 film Belfast that gave her recognition on an unprecedented level. She received a Bafta and Golden Globe nomination for her role as Ma in Kenneth Brannagh’s critically acclaimed film. It served as a reminder that, really, Balfe’s acting is only getting better and bolder. Between breaks in Outlander, she took roles in the films Ford v Ferrari, Money Monster and The Cut and next spring will see her opposite Rami Malek in The Amateur.

She has avowed to take a break following her decade of Scottish time travel, but after having directed an episode of the show, this may prove another new direction for the multi-talented Balfe. “I was asking our producers for a little bit if I could, and in season seven, I got the opportunity to do some second unit stuff,” she recalls. “That was amazing as a first foray into it. When I got to do a whole episode, it was just so much fun, so I would love to do more.”

“I am going to try and have an actual break though,” she says, sighing. “And then I have a project I'm trying to write myself…” She won’t be drawn on more, so I ask what legacy she thinks her landmark series will have left. “Honestly,” she says, “I think the thing I'm the proudest of is that after 11 years, we're all really great friends, and we all have such a love for each other. There are just so many amazing moments I will cherish.”

Outlander S7 Part 2 is now available to watch on MGM+ in the UK & on Starz in the US.

Harper’s Bazaar

Remember… I think more than anything what I realised is, for me, personally, what an amazing teacher Claire has been. — Caitríona Balfe

[androdragynous]

EFIT THANK YOU ANON ITS AREA 50.5 BY AKRIL15!!!

hi help me find a game for my friend . ANY information about it would be great, we're pretty sure it doesn't exist online any more but I am a miracle worker. anyways

The Game As Remembered By Fusgia:

point and click 2d DeviantArt game of someone's OC / original character, played as a puma / cougar / mountain lion lab experiment with human hands. Goal was to escape / get out of the lab. Plot is barely remembered but there was a globe you can click on and spin and the puma points at a spot to say they could go there / visit. When you get out of the lab you are in a house with a bed overlooking a window

this reddit thread appears to be describing the same game (copied below the break for search indexing), but hasn't had a successful find yet

If you know ANYTHING about this game or the creator, or (miracle upon miracle) you're the creator, please get in touch!! Shares are very welcome!! Kiss

[Browser][2010s] DeviantArt flash game where a big cat must escape an underground lab that has a minor twist ending

EDIT: Realized that my initial estimate of the early to mid 2010s was a few years too late to be correct. My only excuse is that I'm stupid.

Platform(s): Browser

Genre: Point and click. It could possibly be categorized further as an escape the room game.

Estimated year of release: Considering that I played it during or a bit after DeviantArt's heyday, I think it's safe to say that it was at some point in the late 2000s to early 2010s.

Graphics/art style: It was 2d and, if I'm recalling it correctly, had a "yeah I saw Disney movies growing up and now I draw animals in a similar way" style to it.

Notable characters: The main character. They were a puma/cougar/mountain lion, or at the very least a big cat with the same sort of coloration. The big thing about the character was that they had human hands. No, I'm not talking about an anthro character that just happened to have extremely human-looking hands. I mean like a full on quadruped but the front paws were just hands.

Notable gameplay mechanics: I don't think it was super unique mechanically for an escape/point-and-click game. The only weird thing about it came from the fact that the main character could use their hands to interact with the environment rather than the gameplay itself.

Other details:

-The main character is a genetic experiment who, after waiting for the scientist who was either responsible for them or bonded with them to return for a long time, finally decides to escape the underground lab they are being kept in.

-Not sure how right this is, but I want to say that the puma and main scientist were both female. There was also at least one other scientist mentioned that was male.

-The underground lab was basically one big room.

-The game ends with the main character escaping the lab and being found by the side of the road. We then cut to a news report on the character and see that rather than humans, the world is populated by anthropomorphic animals. The main character wasn't an experiment in splicing human and animal genes, but in splicing together anthro and regular animals.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

A DWINDLING, MERCURIAL HIGH

odasaku x f! reader

long fic, angst, brief smut, themes of abusive marriage/family poverty, cheating, pregnancy

a/n: i had to split this into two parts! it was getting so long but i wanna get this out now. part two is in the works <3

inspired by illicit affairs

you were 18 when you met odasaku, and 18 when you were forced apart.

in the bustling city of yokohama, it was often hard to find serenity.

it often felt like the city’s people never truly rested. they tore through the streets like a bullet through paper. always a place to go. always an important job to make little money at, always a date for a failing relationship, always somewhere to be and somewhere to go. no matter where you drove, walk or ran to, there was almost never a place that felt calm. not boring, as others would call it. calm. like a checkpoint just for you. so when you did find those hidden caverns, forgotten by the world to busy to pay attention, you savoured it.

you thought of it like your superpower. being able to scope out the places of sweet refuge.

the hidden away, small coffee shop covered by graffiti- small you called cozy and graffiti you called art- was rourou cafe. you knew the owners well. it seemed only you knew to order the green curry because it tasted the best with the jasmine rice they always served fresh. it didn’t taste like the pompous food they served only to the finest, with refined flavours and an astonishingly large bill that always managed to ruin a meal. it had the aroma of comfort, and the flavour of home.

kogaya park was a sight for sore eyes on your long walk home. in its heyday, it seemed to be the only right place for a romantic confession. now, you see couples lose their love like the trees lose their leaves to the enemy we call time. you met an old man there once. he was blind, yet saw the world better than anyone you had ever known. “[y/n],” he spoke in slow breaths like the sun rising over the land before anyone had awoke in its grace. “age is not a number. age is how many times you’ve felt the suns warmth. age is how many times you’ve heard a beautiful song. age is how many times your feet have carried on and moved you forward. when i die, that is what i’ll remember.” you knew he was a man who bared stories like they were his clothes. this park was the only place where the warmth of the sun remained uncovered, the only place he could slow down and feel. you felt that too.

your favourite place, if you could truly choose, had to have been the aishi library.

part of it was that you worked there, and so loving it made your mundane tasks easier. but you were by no means forcing yourself to love it. it seemed everyone who walked in and out were much like you- people who longed for a quiet life. while you spent your hours of the day sorting books into shelves and keeping the place clean, after hours was the true beauty of it all. you’d bury yourself in the stories, pages that opened a gateway to different worlds. relationships that lasted, lives that were fair, and endings that truly mattered. those pages were your true home. fantasies are much nicer than reality, anyway.

perhaps the reason not everyone found escapes as easy as you was because they never needed to.

ever since you were young, you were always forced to search for something more pleasant. you were someones daughter, and that meant helping with dinner and hoping that the sound of chopped vegetables and boiling water could overpower the sounds of your parents falling apart in the other room. being someones daughter meant trying to heal your mothers trauma while she hid away in the closet, scared to come out and look for you knowing he might be there too. being someones daughter meant forgiving your father over and over again. not because you truly forgave him, but because you didn’t want to find out what would happen if he knew that.

your father was a dangerous man. one who owed debts to unsavoury people. people you had only read about in books. people you would soon come to know all too well.

as the days passed on, you grew more and more reliant on that little library. winter soon came, and the familiar faces you knew slowly began to phase out. people left to be somewhere warmer, and you knew that longing for warmth better than anyone else. you stayed focus on the task in front of you, arranging a pile of books back into their rightful homes.

ring!

the front door bell announces that someone has walked inside. in your peripheral, you see him- a young man you presume- enter the library and scan his surroundings. you look over your shoulder. indeed you were right, a young man you had never seen before. soft, reddish brown hair framing his strong jawline with eyes like the ocean to match. he dressed well, you noticed as a tinge of blush blooms on your cheeks.

he notices you too, and smiles.

you immediately turn back to your books.

all is still for a moment. he walks around for a bit, examining his choices of stories to read. he carries a pen and paper by his hip, as if ready to note the anecdotes of life at a moments notice. he must have been writer. or maybe you were thinking of him a little too much.

“excuse me, ma’am. do you have a book you’d recommend?”

wow. you thought. his voice was deep but honeyed. you turn to face him, as he gets a good look at you without your nose stuck in a book.

wow. he thinks as well upon seeing you.

“follow me.”

you take him to your favourite section, the fantasy novels. the stories that made real life seem like a poorly written, unfinished drama. “any one of these here are beautiful reads, i would know.”

you pulled out a velvety green book from the bottom shelf. “but if i had to recommend, i’d start here.” you handed the book over to him like it were a prized possession.

“the cave of two lovers?” he asked, curious blue eyes scanning the treasure you had gifted him.

“the story of oma and shu, two lovers from enemy villages who-‘’ you began to ramble. “oh i wouldn’t want to spoil it!”

he smiled again. “i’ll have to give it a try, then.”

you had grown terribly fond of your new friend, odasaku. he’d make sure to come in once a week at least to tell you his thoughts on your recommendations. the setting sun by osamu dazai was a riveting read, one that he’d lazily get back into while eating the green curry you let him in on. the tears of the kingdom, the story of a princess and her knight torn apart by evil was the book he relaxed into while at kogaya park. he even spent a day reading his favourite verses to a kind old man who reminded odasaku of himself. he absolutely adored the cave of two lovers, but thought that the avatar’s love- it’s sequel- deserved a better ending. he felt as though zuko and katara would have been a much better fit.

“i’m glad you’re enjoying youself.” you hummed while you sorted away more books. odasaku had taken it upon himself to help you with this task, reaching the taller shelves you couldn’t get to- much to your dismay. and he insisted he didn’t mind, though he was embarrassed to admit he did it simply to he around you more. everytime he’d reach over you, you were gifted the scent of his cologne and the sight of him. you could spend the rest of your life putting books away with him.

“you have great taste. i’m happy to come here.” odasaku paused in his tasks to admire your rhythm. every now and then you’d pick up one of your precious books, flip through the pages before sorting it alphabetically. sometimes you had to run and grab tape or pen, but it didn’t matter how far those were- you knew the library like the back of your hand. he knew you spent a lot of time here and hoped he wasn’t intruding.

“i’m happy you like my recommendations. i don’t always like to share my favourites.” you hum, now facing him and giving him your attention. “the people who come here don’t usually care about what i think.”

“well, i do.” he reassures you, his lips forming into a smile that could light up the world. “but i actually have a recommendation for you.”

“oh?”

“i recommend..” he placed down the book he was holding and took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over yours in small strokes. “that you let me take you out tonight.”

your heart nearly leaped out of your chest.

“we can go to that cafe you introduced me too. i find it lovely, but maybe more so with you there, [y/n.]” the way he said your name made you melt, like molten honey dripping from his lips. each syllable of your name sounded like poetry as soon as he said it.

“i’d love that.” he took your hand and brought it to his face, pressing a kiss to your wrist. his blue eyes didn’t blink once as he stared at you. he had feelings and knew you felt them too, and he was taking advantage of that now.

in hindsight, you wished he would have just pressed his lips to yours and made you his right then and there. because life gives you no warning when it changes, and that night it was all about it change.

as soon as the door to your house swung open, the feeling of uneasiness rushed at you. something screamed wrong, and you were about to find out why. you followed the sounds of anguish to your living room, finding your mom on the couch. her head was buried in her hands wrinkled with guilt and age. you were used to the sight of her crying, but never without reason.

seated across from her was a man you had never seen before. dressed in a black suit with hair like midnight, tied in a neat ponytail. his white gloved hands sat orderly in his lap, a disturbingly calm contrast to your mother in distress.

“mom, whats going on?” you cautioned as you sat down next to her weeping form. she slowly removed her hands shielding her face, turning to you. her eyes screamed pity.

“[y/n], we h-have a visitor. this man is ogai mori, and well… he’s your fathers boss.”

mori smiled, his eyes piercing through your soul and screaming nothing but bad news. “it’s very nice to meet you ms. [l/n], i’ve head very good things.” his words seemed nice on paper, but his tone spewed venom.

“ms. [l/n], i’m sure your aware that your father owes me quite a bit. your family is also struggling to stay afloat right now.. i’ve come here to tell you that that will no longer be an issue for you.” he smiled, but hie eyes remained sinister.

you looked to your mother desperately for answers. how could your debt have been solved so easily? why was she crying if all your problems had supposedly been solved?

“ms. [l/n], kindly lend me your hand.”

hesitantly, you reached out your hand- the same hand that has previously been blessed by odasaku mere hours before. his slender and much larger fingers grasped your palm as he slid a silver ring onto your finger.

you froze. cold sweat dripped down your forehead at the sight. you jerked back, staring down at the ring mori had forced on you.

no. no. no. no. no. no. NO.

“what the fuck is this supposed to mean?!” you cried, knowing what it meant but not wanting to accept it. your mothers tears dried, motioning behind you. it was only then when you noticed the suitcase of clothes- your clothes- packed and ready. your mother looked down. she looked ashamed.

“ms. [l/n], don’t be startled. we have plenty to do together, afterall.”

meanwhile, odasaku sat and waited patiently at rourou cafe. he was deep in thought, worry and insecurity rattling in his shaky hands. everything seemed find when he had asked you to this date. maybe his worst fears were true. maybe there was nothing between you after all.

“is [y/n] coming?” the cafe owner asked.

odasaku shook his head.

7 years later.

you had thought that marrying the leader of the port mafia was punishment enough. you cried and cried and cried, mourning what you had lost in the blink of an eye. your husband reminded you that this was the contract that your father signed you off to- now that you two were married, your family could live debt free. but that wasn’t your choice. it was decided for you.

it wasn’t just a marriage where you turned into some pretty housewife- no. mori had taken it upon himself to train you. to turn you into one of his most deadly weapons. you hated it. you hated learning to shoot and to look away as you stole the breath of someones life. but over the years, your heart hardened, and your tears dried. perhaps it would a good thing he had made you this way. now not even he could touch you.

long were the days you read and weeped for the fictional. ougai had promoted you to executive status, a rare feat for someone with no ability. but your skills were exceptional, and only the broken could do such unspeakable work. that had to have been why he broke you in like a god damn shoe, after all.

but no matter how much he forced your heart to fortify, someone stayed in your mind. someone who left his kiss on your now wedded hand.

you had influence within the mafia. as an executive and as ougai’s wife, you knew that you could track down odasaku. you knew that you could have your men summon him into your office with the snap of your fingers. so why didn’t you?

your high heels tapped against the floor as you were just about to turn a corner. you head the voices of some subordinates, mocking your name.

“theres chuuya, the short ginger, kouyou, the hot one, and queen bitch [y/n] mori. what does that make you, just some bandage freak?”

you peered the corner to see two of your subordinates, challenging your fellow-executive dazai. you were always a fond of him, and by the smirk on his face when you turned the corner, he seemed quite fond of you too.

“ah ah ah boys, you’re going to regret what you just said.” he provoked them further. its clear that whatever he was doing he was clearly aware of. he was a demon prodigy- yet he had his fun toying with the minds of others.

“oh yeah? why’s that?” one of the men challenged.

dazai chuckled. “queen bitch, you say?“

“bitch! i bet shes only one of you fancy ass executives because shes married to the boss!”

“ahem.”

dazai chuckled and backed up, giving you room to enter the scene. the two boys blood ran cold at your sight.

you slammed the particularly loud one into the wall, pressing your arm up against his chest. the other bolted in the opposite direction.

“y-y-[y/n]! i didnt mean any of that! we were just j-joking around..”

“you don’t get to address me by my name.” your voice was cold as ice. no one had called you by your name in years. no one you would ever let.

your knee flew up, hitting him right in the crotch. you released him from the wall and watched as he wailed, grabbing the sensitive area in pain. you began to walk away, dazai following shortly after you.

“what are you doing? you’re an executive, act like it.” you spewed. dazai sighed like a little boy.

“well, i only stepped in to investigate all the things they said about you! so really, you should be thanking me.” you chuckled; childlike stupidity was always funny.

later that evening, you found yourself desperately needing a drink. the mafia was fond of a few different bars in the surrounding area, but one you knew of well was lupin. it was a cozy and elegant setting, one that reminded you of your past enough to draw you in but not too much that it made you want to burn it down. 

you ordered a glass of white wine, drinking it down as though you never used to hate the taste of alcohol. so far, you’ve managed to shut down every piece of your past. this was you now. you couldn’t escape anymore, you had become the thing you hid away from all those years ago. and you had no choice but to move forward.

“whiskey, neat.”

the man next to you ordered. his voice was comforting, but you knew not to be lured in. only the mafia came to this bar, and that meant everyone waa bad news.

but, you couldn’t resist tilting your head and hearing him speak. he was a deep, husky baritone, one that made you wonder who’s lips it came from. you looked down at your wine glass and lightly spun it, watching the liquid as it sloshed! around the cup in boredom.

you wondered what your name would sound like in his voice.

“[y/n]?”

you chuckled to yourself, knowing your imagination called out to you in delusion.

that was, until the voice called out again.

“[y/n]…” 

you finally looked over, and there he was.

age had done odasaku justice. he looked stronger and adjusted, like his life had sculpted him into a beautiful man. those eyes stayed the same. the ones you had dreamed about for years.

your lips stayed agape. his blue eyes examined the sight in front of him. he noticed you changed as well. your sweet blush, gentle hands, and forgiving eyes had been buried away. you seemed older, like life forced you into a corner you fought back to. but you were still fucking beautiful.

“i-i, wow, odasaku. i mean. you look great.” you spoke as if you slapped the few words in english you learned when you were 5.

he was forgiving, and chuckled at your demeanour. “is that your way of making it up to me?” he teased.

“no! god no! i- wow. i mean, what are you doing here?” you questioned. you had to admit that the subtle reference to the past caused you a tinge of pain. but all you could do is be thankful that he was actually here, alive and well in front of you.

“i could ask the same about you.. though, since we’re both here, we can assume one thing.” odasaku’s eyes never lingered off of you, as if he wasn’t trying to lose the image of you in his mind.

“i see… i guess life forced you into this as well.” you spoke before taking a deep sip of your wine.

“i guess so. but i never stopped thinking of you.” there it was. odasaku’s warmth, his radiance like the sun that kept you warm throughout the harshest 7 year winter you had endured. you wanted to bathe in it forever. he placed his hand on your thigh, moving closer to you. but something caught his eye.

“you’re married?” he asked, tone changing to confused as he looked down at your silver ring. he remembered that hand, the one he wished he could hold the rest of his life.

to be honest, you had completely forgotten about that as soon as you saw odasaku. “oh!” you took your hand and studied the ring. “yes, i’m married to ougai.” that last part of your sentence fell flat with resentment.

this was the moment odasaku had realized how much you’ve changed. how could someone as sweet as you marry that monster? but oda knew to act better than he felt.

“i see..” he calmly replied, removing his hand from your thigh and finishing his whiskey. you panicked, knowing that look of disappointment all too well. you had seen it on many men before you, but his seemed more worried than anything.

“i’m so sorry if i made you think..” you lied through your teeth, trying to comfort the man in front of you.

“its okay, [y/n]. a beautiful woman like you.. it was bound to happen.” he reassured you, knowing that the rose of love had its thorns.

the way he said your name broke down every wall inside your head. god, how you wanted to tell him the truth of your marriage. how it hurt knowing he simply thought loved another man. how it hurt he didn’t know that that man was him.

“i’m really glad i ran into you, odasaku.”

“i’m glad to see you, [y/n].”

the rest of the night you spent laughing and chatting like you never had before, taking you back to your secret book club meetings with just him years before. this is what warmth felt like. you hadn’t felt that in years.

it started out with simple, nightly phone calls. you’d call him on your way back home since ougai worked such late nights and often didn’t bother to check on you. oda would. he’d text you to confirm you’d got home and wait up for your goodnight text.

it then evolved into private, clandestine meetings at the bar. you’d meet late into the night, sometimes joining ango and dazai in their chats. odasaku would introduce you as a mere “friend”, though everyone knew that that title felt wrong on many levels. you pretended not notice odasaku take a swig of his drink everytime your husband was brought up in conversation.

but you relearned everything you loved about odasaku. his jokes, his way with words, and how he always managed to make everyone the worst parts of yourself feel like a eulogy. he had filled your empty heart with something you longed for. something you hadn’t felt from your parents in years, something your husband had never given you once: love.

you didn’t mean for it to happen. but you were falling back in love with him.

well, its not like you tried to stop it.

and even though odasaku was a man of class, and wanted to respect the vow of marriage, he too could not deny the lingering feelings he had kept like a locket all these years. and it burned inside of him knowing that even though his words were the ones you kept in your heart, at night you laid next to another man. he was the man that held your hand on hard long days, but it was not his ring that wedded you. that even though he loved you more than the air he breathed, you were married to ougai mori.

it wasn’t him. it wasn’t him. but it should have been. he thinks every time he sees that fucking ring on your finger.

odasaku could be content knowing that at least, you were loved by another man. but you weren’t. the more he learned about your marriage, the harder it became to act better than he felt. he wanted to respect that you were a wife, someone else’s wife, but that was some made up vow on a sheet of paper somewhere. your heart belonged to him.

odasaku had taken you to the rooftop of his apartment. it was late at night, so late that you thought even the stars had longed to go to sleep. you knew ougai would begin to grow suspicious, but right now your fear was overpowered by the man beside you.

he held you close with a firm arm wrapped around your waist, securing you to your rightful place by his side. your eyes watched as the stars blanketed the night sky in a bright hue that stretched for infinity, singing a choir of celestial beauty that only those fortunate enough could see each night. you watched the sky, and oda watched you.

all these years and you still looked so fucking beautiful. bathed in the moonlight, you heart was beating like it were about to burst. you turned to face him, placing your hands on his chest and allowing yourself to be enveloped by his scent. he hummed in response, hands keeping a firm grip on your waist as if you would be pulled away from him at any second.

you never wanted to kiss someone more desperately than now.

“i love you.” you whispered, finally allowing your heart to breath. for what felt like the first time in 7 years, you spoke the truth.

odasaku let his forehead drop, pressing it against yours. his eyes closed, hands never wavering from off your body. he felt like you lifted bricks off of his back, confirming that you had felt the same for him all these years. but there was just one problem.

“you’re married, [y/n].” he wanted to scream. scream how it was unfair, scream how you should be married to him instead. but his lips could only muster our the first half of the truth. he had to put you first, always.

you scoffed. “do you really care?”

that right there, was all he needed. “no.”

he pressed his lips to yours with passionate fervour, like he were to die without feeling your kiss. you wasted no time returning the favour, pouring every ounce of your love for him. odasaku kissed you like he hopelessly, desperately needed you- every bit of you. probably because he did.

you desperately grasped his shoulders as he used one hand to cup your face, the other remaining diligently on your waist. you were pushing him past his limits. your beautiful eyes, waist shaped like it was just for him, and a soul that could dare any man to fall in love with you.

you couldn’t stop kissing, even when both your lungs scratched for air. you only pulled apart to look into his eyes once more before going back in, pressing your lips to his like he was your lifebuoy. you needed to feel him, all of him. you needed his love. you were deprived of it for years and subjected to a hell without it. but he was here now, and god damn it if you weren’t going to feel all of him. your husband waited for you in a barren, cold apartment, but the love of your life kissed you under the warm gaze of the heavens.

you were what he needed. he was what you needed. this is what love felt like.

you were everything he wanted love to be, and he wasn’t going to stop at just your lips.

for a man so gentle, sweet and loving, you had never expected him to be this way in bed.

“odasaku!” you moaned out of breath, barely being able to speak his full name. he thrusted his thick, throbbing cock into your pussy. he groaned, relishing in the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. he pinned your hands above your head, while his free hand rubbed circles on your throbbing clit. he fucked you like he was going to lose. he needed to feel you, all of you.

the sounds of skin slapping echoed throughout the room. with a sharp thrust, he buried himself deep inside your willing body, a guttural groan of pleasure escaping his lips. “this is where you belong. not with him, with me.” he reassured you as he pressed his lips to your already hickey-infested neck. he was going to send you home with his marks. he was going to make sure your piece of shit husband knew who you really loved you. he might have been married to you, but odasaku was the one who fucking you now.

he set a relentless pace, pounding into you with ruthless abandon as he chased your pleasure. he wanted you to forget ever feeling unloved, only being able to think of the way his cock fucked you. the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, and by the end of the night you would only be able to remember his name.

he continued to pound into your pussy. your desperate moans and cries of pleasure fuelled his relentless pace. he reveled in the feeling of your tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock, the sensation almost enough to make him lose control. he let out a deep moan as he leaned down, his lips and teeth hungry against your flesh. he sucked and nipped at the soft skin of your breasts, determined to leave his mark - a possessive display that would show the world that you belonged to him and him alone.

“f-fuck! fuck oda… fuck please.. i need you.” you desperately cried out to him as you felt your core begin to slowly unravel itself. you were coming undone from underneath him. gripping your hips firmly, he resumed his relentless pace, his thick shaft plunging into your body over and over. the sound of your shared moans and the slap of skin on skin filled the air as he chased your release, intent on thoroughly ruining you for anyone else.

“i’m gonna cum.. fuck please…” you cried out. he kissed your chin as he felt himself come close as well. his vision swam with stars, his only mission now to plant himself so deep inside of you your husband couldn’t even think of touching you. he clutched your hips with bruising force, driving himself in as deep as he could go. with a few more sharp snaps of his hips, you let out a cry of ecstasy as his release crashed over him and you hot spurts of cum flooding their intimate embrace. he let out a groan as your pussy clenched around him so tight, cumming around his cock desperately. he continued to pump into you slowly, drawing out your orgasm. you were practically seeing stars.

slowly, he pulled out, a trickle of his spent release dripping down your thighs. leaning in, he placed a possessive kiss on the nape of their neck, a satisfied l smile playing on his lips. he removed himself from on top of you and laid down beside you. odasaku pulled the blanket over the two of you, pulling you closer to him and his embrace. he kissed all over your face, making sure that you were okay. you lazily nodded, reassuring him that you simply needed to come back down to earth.

your head fell into the crook of his neck, allowing the sleep to overtake you. for the first time in your life, you laid next to someone who loved. odasaku could sleep soundly, knowing you were safe. knowing you were with him.

“my wife, i was so worried about you the other night. tell me dear, where have you been?”

bullshit. you thought.

ougai had summoned you into his office, a rather rare occurrence considering your relationship. if he wanted to assign you a job, he’d simply call you. when he wanted to see you in person, it was because he needed to see you. as a doctor with extensive knowledge on the human body, ougai knew how ro detect a lie. but you knew how to hide one well.

“i was assisting the black lizard in a raid.” not a complete lie. hirotsu was a personal friend of yours, and often called upon you as backup. he also had a distaste for mori, so he’d have no problem confirming this in your favour.

ougai pressed his lips into a calculated smirk. “i see.” something was up. he was testing you.

“my dear… the mafia speaks of you in such high regard.” he began, turning in his chair and facing the portrait behind him. he had a painting of you made, one that required you to stand in an uncomfortable silk dress that barely fit you properly for hours on end. he didn’t want a wife, he wanted something beautiful he could own.

“they speak of your power and your beauty, your voice and your and your heart. many think of you like a goddess, and their eyes twitch with jealousy upon learning that you are married to me.”

your brows furrowed. “whats your point?”

he stepped up, carefully walking towards you. that wretched smile of his never fell off his lips, and it was anything but comforting. he moved until he was mere inches away from you, leaning in to your ear.

“what would they think if they… knew you were pregnant with another mans child?”

[the-empress-7]

Years ago, when Meghan first got pregnant, people predicted that when she finally starts openly merching she will want a girl child and put her all over Instagram. I'm amazed that she actually is doing that now.

I think she doesn't even see her own hypocrisy. She believes her girl is special just like her and the opportunities to make money justify the means she is resorting to. Seeing children on Instagram and YT always makes me uncomfortable, I even judge my own family members and friends who constantly put their children on social media.

My future prediction is that HnM will have another surprise pregnancy in a couple of years. Nothing brings in the clicks and likes a new baby. She has going full mom vloger/influencer route. Its tacky but somehow not even surprising that all she ever wanted to be was a cali based mominfluencer.

Were you around when the whole baby shower went down in real time? The baker posted pictures of the cupcakes with "It's a girl" cutouts and all the decorations were pink. Anyway tongues were wagging that it was going to be a girl. BUT then us bloggers started talking about how a girl can't inherit the Sussex title and lo behold she ends up with a boy. Yes, I know sound tinhatty but it's for good reason.

She will hate being a mommy blogger, she'll hate the spotlight being on someone else and having to admit that her heydays of being a thot are over.